Obliteration
by Stormfire76
Summary: "That's my plan," he insists. "You've got to go along with it… okay? I know your fatal flaw, but you can't… you can't decide you're above death. You can't try to bring me back. You know how badly that always works out in the myths." Rated T for major character death.


**I'm sorry that this drabble is so upsetting but I wrote it at 2am and it ruined me so I decided someone needed to share in my pain. I think it's probably open-ended enough for a sequel, but I think I'm too lazy to write one so this will almost certainly remain a oneshot. Once again, I'm very sorry.**

 **P.S. I don't own PJO.**

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 **Obliteration**

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Annabeth gapes at the blood on her hands. It is too dark, too thick, too shiny to possibly be real. Right? _Right_?

"Anna… Annabeth…"

Gulping down tears, she tucks her hair behind her ears so he'll be sure to see her face when she leans over him. "I'm right here, Percy. Everything's going to be… to be fine—"

"Oh, come on, Wise Girl." When he coughs, more of that too-dark too-thick too-shiny blood leaks through his lips. Annabeth brushes it away with fingers that are too red already. "We're past this. No need to… to lie to me."

Before she can formulate a response to that, a lock of her hair escapes, and Percy tugs on it with weak fingers. "I… always loved your hair," he whispers. "I love you."

"Percy—"

"Hey. Hey, don't… don't cry." His fingers reach up to touch her face, but he can't quite reach her. With something like a sob, she leans down. For maybe the first time in her life, his touch doesn't steady her. It just twists a knife deeper into her gut—but she doesn't complain because the knife in Percy's lung is much more real and much more horrific.

"How could I _not_ cry? Percy, I—you're—"

"Don't worry, Wise Girl. I've got"—his next cough wracks his entire body—"a plan."

She runs her bloodstained fingers over his shoulders and tangles them in his hair. "Oh yeah?"

It's crazy—absolutely insane—but for an instant, Annabeth is hopeful. They've cheated death a hundred times in the eight years that she's known him. That can't just… _stop_. There has to be a way to cheat death again.

And then Percy opens his mouth. "Yeah. If I… if i make it to Elysium, I won't try to be reborn."

As smart as she is, it takes her a second to process his words. Then she swears her stomach drops out of her body. " _What_?"

"You… heard me."

"Percy! There are so many things wrong with that statement that I don't know where to begin. You don't have to—you don't have to worry about Elysium or the Isles or any of that. You're going to _stay alive_."

 _Oh, gods, there's so much blood_. "It's… too late for that." Percy's hand slips from her face and drops limply to the ground. Deep inside Annabeth, a part of her dies. "Listen, Wise Girl. I'll… stay in Elysium. I'll wait as long as it takes. And one day I'll… I'll see you again."

"Percy—"

"That's my plan," he insists. "You've got to go along with it… okay? I know your fatal flaw, but you can't… you can't decide you're above death. You can't… try to bring me back. You know how… how badly that always works out in the myths."

"Leo brought himself back."

"And look what happened to him! Annabeth… he was never the same. And then… well, you know." He threads his fingers through Annabeth's and pretends that it helps. "I'll see you again, Wise Girl, but you can't… you can't do anything stupid. Promise me."

The smile on Annabeth's face is tragic enough for any Greek myth. That's all they are now, apparently—another awful Greek story with a bitter end. "You know, I'm usually the one keeping _you_ from doing anything stupid."

"Annabeth."

"This can't be happening." She shakes her head. "Percy, this is, without a doubt, the stupidest plan you've ever had. I can't—"

"Annabeth. Please."

Annabeth wants to scream, but she won't hurt Percy like that. She won't force him to watch her crumble. "Okay." The word shatters her heart. "I promise. I trust you." One of her hands slides to his cheek as Annabeth watches the color drain out of his skin along with his blood. _How is she going to explain this to Sally?_ "Percy…"

She can't continue. Her voice is more broken than his.

And then he speaks. "What, Annabeth? How can I… make this better?"

" _Percy_." Only he would do this. Only he would try to help somebody else even while he's dying. "Just… believe me when I tell you that there's no 'if.'"

He frowns, and Annabeth knows that it's a silent question. She knows her boyfriend—but that doesn't mean she can save him. Not this time. "Earlier, you said, ' _if_ I make it into Elysium,'" she explains. "There's no 'if', Percy. You'll make it."

"Most of the gods hate me," he points out.

"Not as much as they needed you. Not as much as the world needed you." _Needs you_ , she wants to say, but she doesn't. She wants him to leave without an ounce of guilt, without a moment of feeling like he hasn't done enough. Without him thinking that he's leaving too early, even though he is. He deserves better than that. "You've always been a hero. You'll make Elysium. I'll see you again." The words come out with more confidence than she feels. She knows Percy will make it, but will she? If she couldn't save him, does she deserve to be called a hero at all?

"Okay. Good. Then this isn't goodbye." Despite everything, he smiles at her. Percy Jackson has always been too good. "But still… do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Kiss me?"

Two little words, and it's too much for Annabeth to bear. Her heart cracks open, a thousand emotions flooding her body until she thinks she'll explode. But Percy asked her for a favor, so she hangs on a bit longer. She leans down and kisses him with all the emotions that she feels herself losing, kisses him with a fire that apologizes for all the years they won't have together. "I love you," she whispers, "no matter what world you're in," and she kisses him again.

When she pulls away the second time, he's not breathing.

If she thought she was past her breaking point before, that's nothing to how she feels now. She looks into Percy's lifeless green eyes, and her heart shatters, and her soul shreds apart, and suddenly no piece of Annabeth Chase remains.

But if Annabeth Chase is obliterated, then so is her promise. Right? _Right_?


End file.
